


he's so whipped for you

by emandrea



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 years of emotions, First Kiss, Fluff, Other, Post Armageddon't, aziraphale is so innocent, crowley is so whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 07:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emandrea/pseuds/emandrea
Summary: A customer explains what the word "whipped" means to Aziraphale, and Crowley is thoroughly embarrassed. Aziraphale, however, realizes how much Crowley has done for him, and decides to ~repay~ him.Pure fluff, aziraphale being an innocent mess, and some fluffy kissing.





	he's so whipped for you

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale said, taking the warm mug from Crowley before taking a sip, turning back to the customer he was trying to ward off. She was insistent on buying his collection of Oscar Wilde books that he had no desire to part with.

Crowley merely nodded, making his way back to the couch to resume his nap, and was almost out of earshot when he heard the woman say, “He’s so whipped for you, isn’t he?” He froze, hidden behind a wall of bookcases.

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “He’s what?” he asked, puzzled. 

“Whipped?” she repeated, clearly unsure as to why Aziraphale was so confused. 

“I do not hit him, if that’s what you are insinuating!” he cried, horrified the human would think such a thing. The woman’s eyes widened and she shook her head.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” she reassured, and Crowley was suddenly very glad he was hidden from view because he knew his face had gone bright red from embarrassment. The woman’s expression softened slightly. “You don’t know what that means, do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused by the angel’s innocence.

“Evidently not in the way you seem to be using it” Aziraphale replied.

“Oh, well it basically means that when someone is in love with someone and they do everything that person asks of them, things like getting something from another room, making a drink or snack, whatever, they’re ‘whipped’ for that person.” she explained happily. “I hope I didn’t offend you, it was just pretty obvious to me that your husband-” she was cut off abruptly as Crowley reemerged, ushering her out the door before she could continue speaking. 

“What in God’s name was that about?” Aziraphale asked when Crowley slammed the door and turned back to face him, out of breath.

“Oh, uh nothing, just uh keeping her from buying books, haha!” Crowley replied rather unconvincingly. Aziraphale narrowed his brow. 

“ _ Crowley _ .” he said, pronouncing each syllable slowly, his voice scolding.

The demon sighed and slumped his shoulders, running his hands through his hair. “I just didn’t need you getting any ideas, that’s all.”

Aziraphale raised a brow. “Ideas?”

“Y’know, just… stuff!” 

“No, my dear, I don’t know.” Aziraphale replied, still feigning scorn. He did, in fact, know. When the woman had explained the term to him, it all hit him like a stack of books. The things Crowley had done over the years. The miracle of Hamlet, saving him from the Nazi’s, miracling away the paintball stain from his jacket. Half of the things Aziraphale hadn’t even explicitly asked for. “How about I think about it while you fetch me  _ ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ _ from my desk?” he said, walking off to the back room and settling himself into his favoured armchair. By the time Crowley returned, novel in hand, the angel had come up with a plan.

Crowley handed the book to Aziraphale, who immediately miracled it back to its place on one of his many bookshelves. 

“Thank you, dear.” he said, tilting his head slightly. 

Crowley flung his hands out in a  _ what-the-fuck _ gesture. “What was the point of that?!” he said, frustrated. How dare Aziraphale waste his time by-  _ Oh _ . His train of thought was cut off as realization dawned on him. The angel’s face was smug, eyebrows raised with a small smirk playing on his features. Crowley shook his head, fighting to keep a smile from his mouth. “You bastard. You did that on purpose!”

Aziraphale leaned forward in the chair, eyes gleaming. His damn bright, beautiful, blue eyes. Crowley would willingly saunter vaguely downwards a hundred more times if it meant he got to keep looking at those eyes. At Aziraphale. 

“And so what if I did?” the angel asked, rising from the chair, taking a single step towards Crowley. Then another. And then they were less than a foot apart and before Crowley knew it, Aziraphale was reaching up and taking off the demon’s glasses and then they were kissing and  _ fuck _ , it was like 6000 years of emotions and memories and  _ feelings _ were hitting Crowley in the chest all at once and he couldn’t breathe and he didn’t know if it was from the burning in his chest or from the fact that Aziraphale’s lips hadn’t parted from his in what felt like hours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative. And then it was fire. And ice. And filled with such passion and  _ wanting _ that Crowley couldn’t make sense, didn’t want to make sense of the feelings in his head. He just wanted Aziraphale.  _ Aziraphale. _ His curly blond hair, in which Crowley’s hands were threaded, his soft, worn waistcoat pressed against Crowley’s stomach, his lips, now hovering mere inches away from Crowley’s. Crowley shook his head. His hands trailed from the angel’s hair to cup the sides of his face. He huffed a sigh, laughing softly.

“Shit, angel, the woman was right, I’m so wh-” the rest of his sentence was cut off as Aziraphale brought his lips to Crowley’s again, the angel’s hands resting on Crowley’s chest. Crowley felt Aziraphale smile against his lips and Crowley couldn’t help but grin back. 

**Author's Note:**

> written for the following prompt suggested by an anonymous user in my ask:
> 
> Someone explains the term "whipped" to Aziraphale. Crowley is embarrassed af.
> 
> also on my tumblr @ queer-omenss


End file.
